When a vacancy opens for a decent flat in central London, and for such a good price, who are you to decline it?
While expecting a peaceful living arrangement to develop paintings for the gallery you work for, instead you're dragged into unexpected...
"Get off!" You try to get away from the detective, whose grip only tightens.
"If you don't want to get kidnapped or die, maybe even both, you need to come with me," he looked at you with urgency. "Y/n, I need you to trust me."
~Hours earlier~
"There have been no new reports on where the Hope Diamond could be, or whether the opening night will go forward," the new reporter stood in front of the museum, "but we only hope this nearly priceless jewel will be recovered,"
Sherlock switched the TV off with a grumble just as John walked in after his shower. "Nothing?" The blogger asks.
"Nothing," Sherlock picked up his violin, plucking at the strings with a sigh. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt your lips on his, nails digging into his skin, words like a cursed torment.
"We still have the gala tonight; you'll need to tell the exhibit supervisor and museum manager about this," John reminds, picking up the papers.
"She stole them, she doesn't need the money, but she will be using this as a way to-"
"Promote herself," John sighs, "just like Moriarty,"
"No..." Sherlock drags on, "no, Y/n got away with this one, she didn't want to be caught until she could make-" then Anna's words hit him like a ton of bricks, "her grand entrance... John, get out a nice suit, we're going to the gala,"
"I- oh, alright," he rushes away.
~~~
"Please?" Anna begs Jim, leaning over his oak desk.
"I can't, my love, I have something that night," Jim flicks through a file, looking up for a split second which he immediately regrets. "Don't look at me like that,"
"Please!" They give their best puppy dog eyes.
"No," Jim says sternly, looking away quickly.
"Fine, then I'll go with my guy friend-"
"No, you're not. I'm going with you," he cuts in, standing up.
"It's funny you think I have friends other than Y/n, but thank you, my darling," Anna kisses his cheek quickly, running out of his office as he was left grumbling.
~~~
"Mr Holmes, I hope you have good news," one of the leading museum directors greets Sherlock and John.
Opening night and a carpet of ruby velvet ran down the centre of the long stairs. Spotlights around columns soaring up into the onyx sky outlined the grand architecture. Whether for the A-list celebrities or the scandal around the diamond, reporters were swarming the place like hounds. Sniffing out every detail, and awaiting for a statement from anyone.
"Afraid not," he clicks his tongue, watching the guests walk by and into the grand building. "Not yet,"
"Not yet??" the man blurts out, confused at his words.
"The person who stole the diamond is here tonight... only problem is we need to single her out of the crowd,"
"Her??"
"What? You think a woman wouldn't be able to pull this off?" Sherlock stares into the crowd, "very close-minded of you... no wonder your security is incredibly flawed," he scoffs with a smirk, ascending into the main gala room.
"You think Y/n will be here tonight?" John fixes his bowtie.
"I hope so..." while he intended no double meaning, Sherlock knew John caught it. He hoped to see you one last time and talk once more before it was the last.
"Ah, Sherly, fancy seeing you here," Moriarty's voice made the duo jump.
"Hey, guys!" Anna waves happily, holding Moriarty's arm. Like Sherlock's, though less expensive, he had a bowtie to match the petticoat and dress shirt. However, while Sherlock wore a classic white with a slight navy tinted tailcoat, Moriarty chose black and red to match Anna's dress.
"Well, apparently dogs can clean up," Moriarty grins.
"Does that mean we can get a dog??" Anna gasps, "I'm taking that as a yes regardless- Seb! Guess what!" they run off to the soldier who had just eaten his third appetiser.
"What are you doing here, Moriarty?" John seethes.
"Accompanying Anna, I did have a deal to settle tonight but whoops! That can wait," he looks back to Anna, planning what type of dog to get with Seb. "Guessing you figured Y/n would be here tonight?" he takes two champagne glasses, handing them to Sherlock and John before taking another.
"Hopefully we catch her before anything too outlandish happens," John mutters behind the glass, which he eyed suspiciously for a moment; he can never be too careful around the Napoleon of crime.
"Oh, then you must not know Y/n well enough," he hums, "I know about the plans... obviously. Though, you try to pry it out my lovely Anna and I will pry your eyes out of your lovely skull," he takes a sip of his drink, "do enjoy tonight," was his final words before silence. Silence of course excluded the chatter of goldfish around.
"How long until we should expect-" John spun to the entrance where the reporters started to go manic at the sound of a roaring engine.
"That should be it," Sherlock runs out, John doing the same but with less urgency. What was he going to do? Throw his bow tie at you?
~~~
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